


The Nightmare

by Perplexed_Pufferfish



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Meta, Parody, greatest hits of both show and book, jon is groot, still salty, the s8e6 script was something else, we still have the books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 09:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20079676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perplexed_Pufferfish/pseuds/Perplexed_Pufferfish
Summary: Insanity reigns supreme at Winterfell as dark omnipotent forces conspire against our beloved heroes.





	The Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by d&d's marvelous writing! My stars, they are skilled. I made it a challenge to string together as many of their brilliant writing nuggets as possible, and then follow it up with the same challenge using the not as spectacular book Braime sections. GRRM should aspire to greater heights.
> 
> It starts using shamelessly borrowed bits from the episodes, the S8E6 script, and the inside episode as well as Red Dwarf. It ends with lovingly borrowed lines from the books. None of it is mine.

“I came to Winterfell because...” Jaime began. In the month's ride from King's Landing, he hadn't practiced what he would say to her.

His reasons had been so clear by Cersei's map, her plan for world domination. The dead were coming, and in the wars of the living, the good guy's were the bad guys, and everyone was doing horrific things. There morality was shaken. He had to insure the survival of humanity, though too be honest, he never really cared about them, innocent or otherwise. He was addicted to Cersei, so he left her. He had ridden North.

He gave Brienne a weak excuse, and she seemed to accept it. She had a more important place to be that didn't involve talking to him or thinking about him. She went to help with the training, and he continued gazing at her. Hours passed in this activity. Cersei and he were the only ones who mattered in the world, even more than the imaginary baby growing in her flat belly. He obediently followed Brienne when she left. They had a war meeting to get to. They passed Grey Worm by the gate and politely nodded to him as he helped set up fortifications. In the meeting room, an argument was brewing. The Starks and Jon Snow were standing by a map with Daenerys, Grey Worm, and Tyrion.

“Gods! The Night King is in King's Landing!” Sansa exclaimed.

Her Satanic Majesty rolled her eyes. “No, this is Last Hearth. The army of the dead is approaching Winterfell.”

“I don't want it,” Jon Snow contributed.

“No, Last Hearth is further north than Winterfell. See, we've orientated the map, so north is in this direction...” his queen continued.

“I don't want it?”

“Yes, here's Winterfell. King's Landing is down here, and we're up here,” she motioned as she spoke.

“Varys doesn't have a cock!” Tyrion said to no one in particular.

“I don't understand. There's like 20,000 miles between us and Last Hearth; we have plenty of time to prepare. Why are we rushing?” Sansa proclaimed. “And the wall is between us.”

“You're the smartest person I know!” Arya beamed at her sister.

“I don't want it,” Jon agreed.

“No, the scaling...” Her Satanic Majesty continued, growing more exasperated. It went on for some time. Jaime didn't see the point in giving them geography lessons that they would only fail.

“Now that we've decided that the army of the dead is an immediate threat coming our way,” Jon's queen finished, “What of our battle plans?”

“You're my queen,” Jon said proudly.

“Yes,” Tyrion cut in. “Snow has agreed to let me present the battle plan.” A few more people trickled in, and they moved to the model of Winterfell.

“… so when the army of the dead arrives, we'll have the Dothraki attack them under cover of daylight. It's the last thing they'll be expecting, A daylight charge over the minefield!” Tyrion began.

“Why not in the complete darkness? It will be more atmospheric!”

“An excellent idea!”

Jaime furrowed his brow. “But… won't that kill all the Dothraki? Their weapons won't work against the wights and the white walkers, and open field combat doesn't seem to be the best strategy here,” he spoke for the first time, trying to be diplomatic.

“It's for their own good,” Tyrion replied. “Look, when they get out there on that battlefield, don't you think the enemy will try to kill them?” Everyone nodded around him.

“They don't need to! You'll have wiped them all out first.” He was fighting a losing battle in this room. Only Brienne and Varys seemed to share his confusion, but they said nothing; Varys tossed some scrolls he was holding and crossed his arms. Tyrion continued outlining the plan. Tyrion was the most clever man in Westeros, so everything he said must be a brilliant idea. Bran sat in the corner and stared into space. Jaime was the stupidest Lannister, and maybe he just didn't understand the plan.

The meeting broke. Tormund was in the corner with Grey Worm, regaling him with the story of how he stabbed Karstark in the face to death. “I know a killer when I see one,” Arya said as she watched them. She turned toward Jaime. He opened his mouth to respond, but then he saw the look on Arya's face. He had charged a dragon and had jumped unarmed and one handed into a bear pit, but Arya – Arya's something different. He backed away.

He saw Her Satanic Majesty batting her eyes at the moping bastard on the opposite side of the room. Unbidden… oh, this isn't the place for those thoughts.

The battle was there. But how the fuck did this happen? How the fuck did he end up here? Chaos all through the courtyard of Winterfell. The Dothraki were dead, as expected, and Her Satanic Majesty hadn't time to throw some more backup badass-looking Dothraki into the mix. “Be with me, build the new world with me. This is our reason, it has been from the beginning,” Cersei had begged him. She still sat the dumb bystander while he was knee deep in the undead. Why the fuck was he in Winterfell? He kinda forgot.

Brienne was beside him. She both hated and loved him, often at the same time. She wouldn't leave his side. They were overwhelmed. Sam was on the ground, crying, as a wight cuddled him. _That's weird_, Jaime thought. But so is Bran.

They were fighting, and time seemed to slow. A golden shade caught the corner of his eyes Cersei stood beside him, the surrounding battle left them untouched. “This is your place, Brother. This is your darkness.” Her torch was the only light in the world. She turned to go.

“Stay with me,” Jaime pleaded. “Don't leave me here alone.” But she was leaving. “Don't leave me in the dark!” A flicker, and her form transformed. A woman emerged from the shadows “Sister?” he said. “Sister, what would you have of me?”

“I am not your sister, Jaime. Have you forgotten me?” He had not. He looked down and saw only one hand. “We all dream of things we cannot have,” she said. “Tywin dreamed that his son would be a great knight.”

“I am a knight,” he said. A tear rolled down her cheek. The woman turned and moved away from him. _Don't leave me_, he wanted to call, but of course she'd left him long ago.

Heart pounding, he jerked awake. Brienne was asleep beside him. He quietly slipped out their bed and padded to the nearby courtyard. He needed a breath of fresh air to clear his head. None of that had happened. He sat on the ground and looked at the sky.

The night was strangely beautiful. The moon was a graceful crescent, and it seemed as though he had never seen so many stars. _I am alive and drunk on __starlight__._

“Jaime,” a soft voice said behind him.

Jaime scrambled to his feet. “My lady. I had thought not to see you again so soon.”

“I couldn't sleep. I missed you,” she said shyly.

He continued musing, “Lady Brienne? Or would Ser Brienne be more to your tastes?” He wrapped his arm around her waist as she proudly blushed.

She quickly kissed him. “We should get back to sleep. We have to begin training early.”

“Yes, you need the rest to keep staring at me in wonder in the yard. Instead of wantonly following me with your eyes, you ought to be blowing me kisses, wench. Let's really give the boys something to talk about.”

“You are hard not to watch out there.”

“A fallen lion wearing his enemy's colors? It's quite the sight.”

“I was about to say that it becomes you.”

He cupped her face and studied her. “When I'm sparring, it sometimes difficult to concentrate with your eyes on me. You do have astonishing eyes.” She averted her eyes and began to protest at the compliment. “Come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar,” he stopped her. She kissed him.

“Let's go back,” she said.

“I can still walk. Brienne, give me your arm.” Clutching her, Jaime let her herd him back to their room.

He stood in the door frame as she moved to the bed, a warm glow from the fire fell on her skin. “In this light, you are a beauty,” he said to his knight.

“Close the door and come here,” she beckoned.

He approached her and idly ran his hand over Oathkeeper near the bed.

“My magic sword for the holy quest you gave me,” she mused. She tried to pull him closer. He contemplated the sword for a second more, and she grew impatient to remove the distraction. “Give me the sword.”

“Oh, I will.” He drove at her, pressing the attack. “May I have this dance, my lady?” he breathed into her neck. They kissed and sprang apart to undress and kissed again. Jaime's blood was singing. This was what he was meant for. He pinned her against the bed. He rained down upon her, moving into her.

Jaime could not have said how long he pressed the attack. The dance went on. _She is stronger than I am._ They rolled until finally she was sitting astride him. Faster, faster, faster… until, breathless.

“Wench, you'll finish me one of these days.”

“Why should I care how you die?” she teased.

“You swore a solemn vow.” he replied seriously. She shook her head at him and draw him closer. As they drew closer to sleep, he whispered, “Brienne?”

“Hmmm?”

“You asked me why I came to Winterfell. It was for this.” His heart had whispered. “You want her? Go get her.” So he did. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “I dreamed of you,” he said.


End file.
